The Ayakashi and The Ring
by ko-drabbles
Summary: Tamaki might not have a shrine like his father and grandmother, he might not get that much money from his jobs, he might not be able to provide everything for his regalias... Yep, that was the size of it. Meanwhile, Shiro Takaoji has a very serious issue with his classmates... Noragami AU. TW: Bullyng, suicide, self harm. [Part 1 of Only Five Yen]
1. He's Crazy

Shiro hated this. Just because the people in his class were jerks, just because they wrote mean shit on his text book, didn't give him an excuse to be this... weak.

His sobs echoed around the deserted bathroom, all the other, more motivated students were listening to their teachers and preparing for exams. He was safe. He was... pathetic. His teeth dug into his lip with a blunt sting as he let his notebook sit on his lap, looking over the scrawled kanji on the cover.

 ** _Crazy._**

 ** _Freak._**

 ** _Kill yourself._**

And what if he did? He'd bet they'd all be so fucking sorry when they found out they were responsible. That they were murderers. Or they'd laugh and say about how he was always messed in the head. Probably the last one, thinking about it; he wasn't likeable or sweet enough for a martyr's death, nowhere near. It almost made him jealous of the bullying victims who were picked off for being "weak", for showing kindness and never hurting a fly.

He screamed and kicked, not that it did him any good. It didn't matter if they'd told him to jump off the roof, if he yelled, it was his own damn fault, apparently. Fuck. Middle school was just so depressing. He remembered when kids only ran from him while playing those silly games, and they were laughing because they were all having fun. Now, they laughed as they ran away, yelling "psycho!" as he screamed at their backs.

He wanted to be a kid again. He was always so impatient to grow up, wishing away days, hours, years... He'd taken it for granted, and now all he wanted was to sit at the piano with his little childhood sweetheart, who he couldn't even remember the name of now.

The guy's bathroom was always kind of gross; toilet roll on the floor (wet), dingy tile, and graffiti on the stall walls. Witty remarks such as " _Shoto's gay_ " and other scrawling. However, amongst the other obscenities and insults, something caught his eye.

In handwriting that was actually somewhat neat, someone had written something very odd for a middle school bathroom, and his brow furrowed, the last few tears falling from his lashes.

 _Delivery God Tamaki, open 24/7! Any problems, solved!_

The mysterious Tamaki's number was there below, and Shiro felt the odd want to... actually call it. Any problem solved, huh? He really was grasping at straws - no, less than that. The number could be for anyone, any kind of person, and he was really going to do it?

The phone intermittently let out it's small _beep!_ as he dialled the number. He was hesitant, and it was all tortuously slow. He really was being a dumbass. He was just... tired. Tired of school, tired of those jerks, tired of dragging himself through life; it wasn't going to change unless he tried. If you could call this trying. It was action though, despite it being questionable.

He held the phone to his ear, and it took less than two rings for the call to be picked up. Eager, then. Or useless and just as desperate as he was. They were kind of a match then, at least.

"Hello, delivery God Tamaki, at your service!" An overly cheery, male voice greeted. Ugh, this was so suspect; like he'd be hauled into a windowless van as soon as he stepped foot outside, "Hello? Are you still there?"

Despite it all, the man sounded... kind, and really, that was all he was asking for at this point. "Y-yeah," He stammered, swallowing hard, "I just... I..."

"You need help, right?" The voice said, and it sounded so soft, almost like he was smiling encouragingly. If he thought about it, he'd probably find it plain depressing that he was getting warm fuzzies over something so painfully benign, "I can tell. No one sees my number otherwise."

Shiro was about to hang up, or throw his phone at the cubicle door, when the man said something so genuine, it stopped him.

"I want to help you, don't worry. Asking is the most difficult step to take, but it really is brave."

Brave. No one ever called him that. He went from a brat to a psycho, no one turning to look at him, to see the damage. It wasn't like he was bleeding or bruised, after all. Still, they still told stories of that one student who used to cut his wrists - laughing like it was funny. Worked himself to death, they said, followed by good riddance.

How could they be so heartless, anyway? He might not have been a nice person, but he'd never do that; he'd rather be dead than that twisted.

Before he knew it, he was sniffling once more, tears dropping onto his lap and darkening little spots on his trousers. "Please..." He began, voice quiet and weak, "Please help me, Tamaki-san..."

The phone hung up, and there was the awful drop of disappointment in Shiro's gut, before a knock at the stall door caught his attention. "I'll happily help, not to worry!" A cheery voice announced, the same as the one that had been on the other end of his call. What the hell?!

He bolted forward, unlocking the door and slamming open, teeth bared. "How the fuck are you here, already?!" He demanded, "I just called!"

"It's called good customer service," The man muttered, and Shiro was surprised to see someone so... young. The guy looked like he could be some kind of model; his blonde hair that was in perfect place, not a flyaway or split end to be seen, and those eyes seemed almost violet in the clinical lighting of the school bathroom.

"You put your number here? Of all places?"

Shiro jumped and whipped his head around to the side, gaze landing on some other pretty-boy teenager with red hair. The other guy pulled a face as he surveyed the mystery stains on the wall, obviously disgusted with the state of the bathroom; Shiro didn't blame him.

"It's called advertisement, Hikaru," Tamaki huffed, cheeks flushed and a little flustered, "If you're going to be this negative, then you can stick to the other jobs. Why'd I even bring you?"

"Because everyone else was busy," Hikaru scoffed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. They were just going to keep bickering by the looks of things, if Shiro didn't get their attention. How professional.

He cleared his throat, the other two in the room actually shutting up and turning to him. Shiro fiddled with the tattered cuff of his school jumper, suddenly feeling rather awkward. "Actually, I don't know why I called your number," He lied, not interested in having the two morons help with a problem that even the teachers couldn't solve, "I'm fine, so you can just go."

"Yeah, because people who are _fine_ cry alone in the bathroom," Hikaru snorted, and Shiro felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He scrubbed his sleeves over his face, drying the tear tracks but still leaving that red puffiness around his eyes, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"Be nice to the customers!" Tamaki scolded, succinct and authoritative, surprisingly, and placed a comforting hand on Shiro's shoulder, "It's alright. Like I said, you're brave for seeking help, no matter where it comes from. It's a bullying problem, right?"

Shiro lifted his head, staring into those purple tinted eyes for a moment. He didn't answer. "Who even are you?" He asked instead, "How did you know?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tamaki grinned, seeming to be genuinely happy at the question. It wasn't cruel, or obnoxious; it was that same softness the man had in his tone. Shiro almost felt… at ease. So, of course, the universe had to bite him in the ass once more, "I'm a God."

Scratch kind and gentle, this guy was crazy.


	2. Slit Your Wrists

Shiro let out a frustrated sigh as his hand rested on the door to his classroom, willing himself to just push it open already. He'd managed to get away from the crazy person proclaiming that he was a God, when the guy and his red-headed friend were both distracted by ramblings of him becoming someone worthy of the worship of thousands. God, why did he just attract weirdos? Despite what everyone seemed to think, he wasn't one; he just got angry sometimes.

He finally made himself enter the classroom, fighting the urge to cover his ears against the whispers of his classmates. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't, they were all just stressed, and he'd always made himself an easy target when it came to this stuff. If they tried to fight him, that'd be different; after all, he was all mouth when it came to violence, and it would put him in actual danger. Words hurt, but it wasn't like they mattered...

 _"The psycho's back."_

It wasn't like a punch to the gut.

 _"Why did he have to come back? Should've just stayed away so we can all focus."_

He just had to keep his head down, like always, and then it wouldn't get worse. Words were fine, they weren't important.

 _"All he has to do is skip classes for a while, and the teachers'll let him get away with anything. They're just glad he actually showed up."_

He just needed to get away sometimes, clear his head. He couldn't deal with it constantly, even if that just spoke to his own weakness. He didn't really do anything anymore, there was nothing to get away with, but an image can be hard to scrub away...

 _"All he has to do is slit his wrists, then he'll never have to come to class again."_

It's not like he ever thought about actually doing it when they said that. Not at all. His wrists weren't scarred, he just got scratched by the cat. It was just the cat.

He took a seat, the lump in his throat cutting off his air, trying to ignore them. Trying to pretend that no one wanted him dead, so there was no point running off, no point crying. He was fine. He was fine, and he didn't need any of those fuckers anyway, because he liked being alone. He wasn't lonely, wasn't daydreaming of a girl who his memory of slipped away more and more each day. Some faceless girl with pretty hair and fingers that turned notes on a page into beautiful music that drifted through his whole body and wrapped around his heart.

 _Cheep! Cheep!_

Shiro peered down, the sound so odd that it caught his attention, and yelped as he fell off his chair. There was something on his finger, perched on the thin silver band that _she_ had pressed into his hand before she left, whispering about luck and happiness and other lies.

"Get off!" He panicked, shaking his hand in hopes of dislodging the creature, only to realise that it had vanished into thin air. He paused, looking at his hand for a moment, before wondering aloud, "There was something… Where did it…?"

 _"There it is. He's officially crazy now."_

Shut up! There was something there, he wasn't crazy! He was never crazy, he just saw red sometimes and acted without thinking, that was all!

 _"So that's his new gimmick."_

What fucking "gimmick"?! He'd never had a damn gimmick in his life! There was something there, on his finger, and no one was taking him seriously, like usual!

 _"What's his game? Does he think that's going to make him scarier, or something? That's so stupid…"_

Why would he want that? Why would _anyone_ want that?!

 _"I hope I don't end up at his high school."_

Well he didn't want to go to high school with any of these assholes, anyway! He didn't care! He didn't need anyone from this shitty school!

 _"It's almost time for entrance exams. I don't have time to worry about a freak like that…"_

And that was status quo, wasn't it? No one had ever given a shit about him, except for her, but she was gone and now he was all alone. Maybe he should just slit his wrists, get it over with…

The thought knocked all the air from his lungs, startling him with how easily it had come to mind, as if it was just a benign thing to think; as if he just thought about making a sandwich. It wasn't like he wanted to die, he didn't. He really didn't, those assholes just told him that he should because people always kick down. They were the psychos, not him. He never did anything like that. When he threw stuff, it was always at the wall.

His shoulders shook, and he could feel that hot sting in his eyes that meant he's start blubbering like a baby any minute. God fucking damn it. Not here, not now. Imagine what they'd say if he cried in front of them...

He couldn't take it. He stumbled to his feet, almost falling flat on his face but managing to stay upright, running out of the classroom and slamming the door behind him. His shoes were all too loud against the linoleum flooring of the hallways, and he felt the too much, too strong paranoia that a teacher would poke their head around one of the doors any moment, and he'd get in trouble. Again. As if that hadn't happened enough as it was.

He just needed to get the hell out of this situation, out of that fucking room, away from those shitty people he shared a class with. He had a test next period, but fuck it. He was failing anyway, so who even cared? He didn't.

He knew that their shitty attitude towards him should be some sort of motivator to pull his grades out of the sink hole - he'd been a smart kid, after all - but no. In real life, that didn't work. He wanted to get a cool, well-paid, successful career, but he didn't have the energy to work on his grades, so that wasn't an option.

He didn't want to try. He wanted to stay at home, in his room, for as long as possible. Why go outside when he was only ever happy there? He sure as hell didn't want to prove the bastards right, but why inconvenience himself in the process?

He didn't have to do anything. He _wouldn't_ do anything.


	3. Between the Near and Far Shores

Shiro had to wonder why this only ever happened to him, out of all the people in his class. Crying in the bathroom, yet again. The second time that day.

Fuck, this was a pathetic pity party, but it wasn't as if he could just stop the tears. The buttons were pushed, his emotions rubbed raw, and he couldn't stop them leaking out from beneath his eyelids. Perhaps, if he were a little stronger, a little better at controlling himself, this shit wouldn't happen. The problem was that, if he had the ability to control it, he would, but those fucking comments wore him down. He just couldn't deal with it.

The logical part of him tutted, reminding him that he could have it a lot worse, but... Couldn't he also have it much, much better? He just wanted to be treated like a normal fucking human being, not this psychopathic school shooter. He wasn't that violent. He never actually hurt anyone. He just... got angry.

But the more he got angry, the more people talked - and the more people talked, the angrier he became. It was a fine little destructive cycle he'd gotten himself trapped in. If he was truly a smart kid, he'd have surely worked out how to get out of it already -

"So, here again, huh?"

He jumped, recognising the voice of the auburn-haired pretty boy from earlier way too easily. However, it was a little softer than before. Not without its harshness, but... sympathetic. Like he could relate in some way. Maybe crazy people really do flock together...

"You know, crying never solved anything -"

"Shut up!" He snapped, cutting the other boy off before he got any further into that stupid cliché, and rising to his feet. He all but kicked the door open, the slam echoing through the bathroom and startling the two other crazies – who were still creepily hanging around a high school bathroom, "Yeah, I'm fucking crying. I always fucking cry, and you want to know why I can't hold it in? My classmates are all assholes who love nothing more than being cruel to me. Just me! I didn't fucking ask for this! I didn't do anything wrong! I just…"

His breath shuddered, tirade coming to an end, the two young men waiting for him to stop patiently, not butting in or trying to speak over him. How long had it been since someone did that? Well, no one had since she left, but here they were. Three crazy guys in a bathroom stall, one sobbing about his stupid problems, like an idiot.

"I just get angry sometimes… And I don't know why…" He nearly whispered.

The air was still for a moment, the others seeing if he'd actually finished, before there was a statement that cut through the silence like a knife.

"Big mood, my dude."

"Hikaru, shut up," The blond sighed, taking a few steps towards him, "Look… I could give you a million condolences, a million lines people have come up with over the years to try and make people in your situation feel better, even though they have no idea what it feels like. Human emotion… It's like fire. Beautiful and warm, necessary, but keep it bottled up too long and you burn yourself and everything around you. Look over there."

Shiro turned to where he pointed, freezing as he laid eyes on some monstrous, black apparition. It oozed out of one of the stalls like black tar, but less tangible. Smoke was the wrong word, everything looking utterly viscous and disgusting.

He wasn't embarrassed to scream, to fall on his ass and scramble back further. He could hear its growls, which twisted and brokenly formed into rancid words.

 _Drop… de…ad. Slit wri…sts… Kill… Kill… Hurt them…_

"It's called an Ayakashi," Tamaki informed, kneeling down to his level and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's been following you for a while now. If it attaches itself to you… Let's just say it'll do bad things. To you and those around you. It wants to just pounce on you, take advantage of the anger you desperately try to bottle up."

It didn't come any closer, but it didn't have to. Fuck, why?! Why was this happening and why here and why now? He squeezed his red eyes shut, a few more tears falling from his lashes, and almost shit himself when he heard the same strange chirping he'd heard in class.

His eyes snapped open yet again, that weird thing back on his ring. Fuck, if the black thing was dangerous, who's to say that it wasn't? Tamaki said about things pouncing on him. He flailed, completely stressed and freaking the fuck out.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Tamaki assured, taking a gentle hold of his arms in an effort to avoid being hit in the face by his gangly limbs, "These things are usually invisible to humans, hiding in the blind spots created by the unwillingness to look at and acknowledge death. You can't have life without it, but whenever you guys refuse to see, it creates a place for us, for demons, for Ayakashi, to hide. It's a space between the near shore - the land of the living - and the far shore. I guess the most apt comparison for the far shore is the afterlife..."

Tamaki took a breather, letting all that information - which was a lot - sink in.

"Right now, you're standing right between them, just like Hikaru and I," He finished, and Shiro didn't know what to think. If this guy really was a God, if he was actually seeing these things in reality, then... He was basically just told a fact of the universe. That was... a lot. Too much. But he didn't really have time to think about that now, not if he wants to fix whatever the hell was going on with him.

"You said... bad things happen..." He began, voice trembling, "Like... what, exactly?"

"When you're weak, when you can't take anymore and you just want to give up, those things cling to you," Tamaki sighed, "And once they get you, the evil inside you – and there's evil inside _everyone_ – takes over."

The chirping, again, only this time he didn't flinch. He felt too heavy, limbs bogged down with the weight of everything he'd been told. It crushed his shoulders, forcing his lungs to work harder to draw in each ragged, unsatisfyingly shallow breath.

"That ring on your finger – it's special," Tamaki smiled, taking his limp wrist with a smile, a bird-like creature – about the size of his thumb nail – perched on top of the silver band, "It's blessed. You have someone on your side, even if you can't always see them. They're going to protect you from these gruesome, horrifying things."

The dark creature growled, backing away as the bird-like chirping grew in ferocity. It turned tail, and ran away, because somewhere out there… She was still on his side. Perhaps she still thought about him with all the tenderness he thought about her, and this distance wasn't a sign that she hated him. It was sad, and unfortunate, but they weren't five anymore. As people grow, distances can begin, but it isn't always a bad thing.

The epiphany really could've come sooner, or at a better time. Here he was, on the bathroom floor, between two worlds, and he'd had the realisation that could've helped him grow beyond the angry boy he was now.

"Hina gave this to me before she went away… She said it would keep me safe…" He breathed, blinking back yet more tears. It felt like he'd cried enough for a lifetime in a single day, but this was the first time in a while that they'd fallen because of… relief. It was always bitter, angry, but all he could think of now was the pressure relieving from inside his skull, the slight sweetness of old love, and gratitude. Thankfulness for her because, well, without that ring he definitely would've fallen victim to these Ayakashi sooner.

"A good luck charm," Tamaki nodded, "She must've cared for you quite a –"

The other boy cleared his throat, causing both him and Tamaki to jump.

"Not that this isn't cute and all, Tono, but aren't we supposed to solve a problem here?" Hikaru shrugged, almost seeming to glide over to the single window looking over the school, "While the ring protects him from Ayakashi, it doesn't protect him from humans – which are kinda the problem here. It's not even like that's it, either. I mean, just look outside… The wind's picking up."

"Oh."

That was all Tamaki said before he stood, walking over to join the other boy at the window. Shiro only sniffed in response, rubbing at his eyes as Hikaru's words brought him down to earth. He was right, after all; the ring was a constant, and practically unrelated to everything going on – even if it was a nice thought to have.

"I see what you mean – the storm's picking up, and the air wasn't good to begin with. Exams do that to humans, I guess…" Tamaki hummed, and at this point Shiro levered himself off the ground to go to the window, see what all this fuss was about for himself, "It's never good."

Shiro felt himself go cold when he saw the Ayakashi the two were staring at, his jaw hanging agape. It wasn't that the creature looked threatening – not like the one oozing smoke, telling him to slit his wrists, all teeth with an aura of ancient evil. No, it looked kind of like a sting ray, but the different was the size alone, and the fact it wasn't in a shallow pool kids were encouraged to stick their hands in.

It wrapped itself around the main building of the school several times, it's voice loud yet contrastingly soft, murmured in a growl that seemed to echo.

 _Drop dead…_

If he were stupid, he'd probably yell that someone – _anyone_ – had to be seeing this thing other than the three of them. It was big, and loud, and spat disgusting words over and over.

 _So drained…_

But they already told him. It seemed these blind spots could get pretty fucking big, and that people were more affected by these things than he could've imagined.

 _I hate entrance exams…_

Was this the source of his utter misery? The ring could keep away the smaller ones, but there was no way it'd help something like that.

 _So pissed…_

It murmured acrid words they all thought they couldn't hear, and it turned them all on a convenient target – loud, unruly, angry him.

 _I just wanna have fun…_

His shoulders were trembling, unable to steady himself in the face of… all this. Secrets of the universe, the embers of her love still glowing, the reason for his isolation and the hate his classmates felt for him.

 _Stupid Takaoji… I wish he'd die…_

"Tono," Hikaru began, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, "Do you think they'd stop picking on the kid if we killed that thing?"

Shiro's ears perked up at that, turning over what Hikaru said in his head. Was it truly that simple? Well, not _simple_ – that thing was huge – but… So comparatively easy to anything he'd thought of before. Surely this was easier than standing on the roof, leaning forwards and forwards until he began to fall…

"P-please Tamaki-sama," He choked, too _overcome_ to even feel ashamed of the desperate plea in his voice. Because he was desperate by this point, and he didn't want to die, to throw away her gift of protection and wish for him to be safe. He even got on his knees, bowing so low that his face touched the grimy bathroom floor, "If killing that thing'll make the bullying stop, then please!"

"Wow," Hikaru snorted, "Grovelling like that, how can you deny him, Tono?"

"Hikaru," Tamaki warned, voice curt, before turning back to him and pushing on his shoulder, prompting him to sit up, "We'll definitely try to help you, Shiro, but there's something that we need to address first…"

He nodded, biting down on his lip, willing to listen and just go along, the idea that all the shit in his life finally being cleaned up was too close to give up on now. His fingertips were brushing it, almost managing to curl it into his palm to hold close.

"Down payment, please."

Well, that cut through the atmosphere with all the subtly of a record scratch. He sputtered, not knowing how to respond, given that nothing about payment had entered the conversation beforehand. All he could do was choke back his own spit, eyes still closely resembling a deer's in headlights.

"Down payment?" He parroted, hope of relief from his torment dying in his chest, "You… You didn't mention anything about charging me! How the hell was I supposed to know you charge for this?!"

"I can't exactly grant wishes for free, you know," Tamaki smiled sympathetically, "I mean, I am a God, after all."

 _Right…_

"I'll do it for this!" The blond exclaimed cheerfully, holding up five fingers, and Shiro froze.

"Five thousand?! Five hundred thousand?!" He blurted before he could stop himself, something cold wrapping around his lungs. He was only a broke high school student, and he didn't want to even attempt asking his parents for the money.

A grim thought murmured that it would certainly be more cost effective to just give in and kill himself, but he quickly shook it away.

"I'm a God!" Tamaki scoffed, "Everyone knows that the monetary offering is five yen!"

Oh. _Oh_.

Hikaru was chuckling in the corner, making it too obvious that it was something to do with his reaction to the news, but he ignored that. Didn't he kind of get himself into this by relying on violence in the first place? Best not push it by punching… whatever that guy was. He simply dug around in his pocket for the small, gold coin.

Tamaki grinned when he handed it over, twirling it between his fingers, and throwing and catching it, playing with it like a child would with a toy.

"May you be blessed with good ties," Tamaki smiled, finally putting the coin away, and turned to look out of the window, at that giant behemoth he'd agreed to slay, and immediately took off. He easily vaulted through the open window, causing Shiro to actually rush after, but not out the window. He leaned heavily on the sill, trying to discern whether the guy was actually just crazy and had gotten seriously injured.

Or worse, dead.

However, rather than some macabre, awful scene, it was almost like the so-called god could float along the breeze like a sakura flower. It was almost beautiful, in a way, but he was just too focussed on the sheer impossibility of all this to process it properly.

"Grasping thy true name, I bind thee here. With borrowed name, I dub thee my servant," Tamaki recited, and Shiro could only watch on, spellbound, "The name answers, the vessel to sound. I call thee my divine instrument..."

"Welp," Hikaru shrugged, shocking him out of his state of... shock? Awe? Probably both, "That's my cue."

"Come, Aoi!"

Before Shiro's eyes, Hikaru was engulfed in a bright, burning light that flickered and morphed into something he couldn't recognise at the time. It hurt his eyes, and he was forced to turn away and shield his eyes, the colourful blotches of retina burns disturbing his sight. It stung, but he blinked it away forcefully, ignoring any lingering pain to redirect his attention on the fight in progress.

Rather than fighting empty-handed, in Tamaki's hand there was a pistol that almost seemed pearlescent in the afternoon sun, tones of blue clear despite the distance. Beautiful, but not exactly the first thing that sprung to mind when one thought of what could be a "Godly" weapon.

Still, it definitely seemed to work. The God wove and evaded the beast like a dancer - beautiful and strong, confident in his movements. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it, and the man's marksmanship was incredible.

Gone was the dolt who'd surprised him in the bathroom, blond brows drawn in concentration and eyes sharp, mouth a tight-lipped line. He actually seemed... dangerous, in that moment, but he didn't dwell on it. After all, the guy was fighting in his corner, so why worry over nothing.

It was fair to say that he made short work of the beast, the man - God - standing in the centre of a cloud of dust, victorious. He couldn't help but clap and cheer, happier than he'd been in months, and Tamaki gave him a wide grin in return. The glowing returned, and the gun was gone, Hikaru standing beside him and straightening out his rumpled clothes.

He got his wish for once, it seemed.

* * *

 **A/N: So, I've changed up the format of this series due to pacing issues, but plot is going to continue as normal. Hope you're all enjoying, as this is a chapter I've been trying to finish for literal months, and comments would be much appreciated.**


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